


The Sound of Souls

by anditsgonnabetotallyawesome



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Soulmates, cuteness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-09
Updated: 2013-07-09
Packaged: 2017-12-18 04:44:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,794
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/875762
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anditsgonnabetotallyawesome/pseuds/anditsgonnabetotallyawesome
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John finds a small box that contains printouts and definitions from many different sites only to question Sherlock about it. Fluff and talk about soulmates ensues.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Sound of Souls

**Author's Note:**

> Very short, very fluffy. Slight AU John/Sherlock established relationship DOES NOT CONTAIN PORN.

John was on his knees in Sherlock’s closet, digging around through the piles of papers he kept in there as he tried to do a bit of cleaning while Sherlock stared glumly over his shoulder.

“It’s perfectly fine just the way it is. I don’t need things to be hyper-organized,” he scowled, snatching a packet of papers from him, “I need these! What if a case involves licea sambucina somehow? You’d regret throwing it out then!”

Throwing up his hands, John was beginning to get frustrated, “Do you want to get down here and do it yourself? Because it’s got to get done either way, you need the closet space.” 

Sherlock only rolled his eyes, tossing his head in annoyance as he crossed his ankles to watch John carefully and commandeer almost everything to put it back where it belonged.

“What’s this?” John pulled a small wooden box out of the back of the closet, shaking it softly to hear a shift of papers, “Sherlock, what’s in here?” he asked as he began to open it. 

Sherlock froze, a protest beginning in the back of his throat as he reached out to grab the box, snapping it shut.

“Old case information. Nothing really important but I need it still because the case is still cold.”

“What was the case?” John gestured for Sherlock to hand him back the box, “And why is it still cold?” 

The detective shook his head, crossing his arms around the box, “This is mine and you don’t need it. It’s noon anyways, why don’t we get something to eat and get out of the dust?”

John raised an eyebrow, “Somebody’s feeling protective, going for food to distract me? Good try. Give me the box, Sherlock, I want to know if it’s actually worth keeping.”

Narrowing his eyes, Sherlock held out the box, crossing his arms tightly, “It’s just for a case. You can just throw it out.”

“Definitely suspicious, love,” John smirked and opened the box, “You’ve fought with me over every single thing I’ve tried to throw out so far. So what could be so precious about this box?”

He opened the hinges, turning the box to read the top papers, a print out of a wikipedia article on soulmates with bits highlighted here and there, “A soulmate (or soul mate) is a person with whom one has a feeling of deep or natural affinity. This may involve similarity, love, intimacy, sexuality, sexual activity, spirituality, or compatibility and trust,” and “related to the concept of love” and “Some psychologists state that believing that a soulmate exists specifically for a person is an unrealistic expectation.”

“Soulmates? What could that have to do with a case, ‘Lock?” John tilted his head, looking up at his boyfriend, “Is that all this box is? Definitions and textbook explanations of an abstract concept?”

Sherlock shrugged, looking at his hands, “It’s all shite anyways,” he muttered and got up, “I’ll be downstairs keeping busy. Do whatever you want with that, I’ll remember it all anyways.”

Nodding absently, John was pushing through the other papers, each one from a different website or a scrawled definition with a citation below it, "According to greek mythology, humans were originally created with 4 arms, 4 legs and a head with two faces. Fearing their power, Zeus split them into two separate parts, condemning them to spend their lives in search of their other halves,” from Greek mythology to Chinese, “Soulmates are bound by a red thread that can bend and twist and curve but will not break the bond that joins them,” to Urban Dictionary, “A soulmate is someone you have a very deep connection. It is not always easy explained. It is a meeting of mind, heart, body and soul on the highest of levels. Communication is at its easiest, as they understand you perfectly, and accept you completely with no judgments.” Various pages had little annotations here and there in almost unintelligible chicken scratch that John knew to be Sherlock’s. 

When John finally went downstairs, he had an idea of soulmates from the beginning of time to its etymology to the modern usage of the word and he still had no clue as to why Sherlock needed it and why it was separate from everything else, but he didn’t say anything more about it as he ate the small sandwich for a bit of lunch.

It wasn’t until two days later when John lay in bed facing the ceiling in his room with a beautifully naked Sherlock on his side facing the wall that he brought it up again.

“What do you think having a soulmate is like, love?” John turned to look at the back of Sherlock’s curly head as his back stiffened under the heavy blanket.

“Don’t know. Not enough information. Probably like sentiment but between two people,” he muttered, not turning to face his boyfriend.

“What do you mean? Sentiment can be good and bad, aren’t soulmates supposed to be good?” 

Taking a long breath, Sherlock rolled onto his back in a huff, “Yes and no. They can be good and bad. Just like boyfriends who try to have conversations when you’re trying to sleep.”

“Ignoring that bit, what makes them good or bad?” John touched Sherlock’s shoulder gently as if he were saying he was sorry for keeping the detective awake.

Sherlock shook his head, rolling to face him full on as John did the same, ready for one of the interesting late-night pillow conversations, “I didn’t say or. I said and.”

“Well then what makes them good and bad? Having one person you can always rely on—isn’t that good?”

“No. It’s not about having someone to depend on, if it were they’d become totally codependent and their life would spiral into misery,” he said abruptly, “A soulmate is someone one has a profound connection with, one that goes beyond an ordinary relationship. It’s not about depending on them or even loving them.”

John’s brow creased, “I thought being someone’s soulmate means you love them because they’re your one and only love.”

“No, usually people love their soulmates because they’re the person that they spend the rest of their life with but somebody was Hitler’s soulmate and how do you think they felt?”

Frowning for a moment, John considered, “What if you hate the person?”

“Just because you don’t like them doesn’t mean they’re not your other half. Perhaps the good and bad parts of you weren’t evenly distributed in the halves.”

“Like that Greek mythology myth where Zeus cut the people in half so they weren’t super powerful?” 

“Pretty much. Most definitions of soulmates define them as a pair of people who are singular to each other through a defined bond. If that bond has to do with your soul, it was formed before you were conscious, right? Because infants have souls too and it’s life that imprints upon them as they become individuals.”

John stared at him for a moment, “I didn’t know you could get that deep,” he flopped his head back down, “Do you have a soulmate, Sherlock?”

There was a long moment of silence before he answered, “I don’t know. It’s hard to know for sure that one person is your soulmate tried and true without meeting every single person in the world. And that’s not possible, I’ve done the math.”

“You have?” John chuckled, “That must have been complicated.”

“Not really. Your soulmate could be someone much older than you—so they could already be dead and you don’t even know it.”

“That would be terrible,” he took a long breath, staring at the ceiling, “I think I’ve found my soulmate. I know that I’ve found the one person who I trust with my life but I am my own person around and I know that I want to be around them unless they’re being an enormous git.”

Sherlock smiled lightly and turned to face him, “So who’s this special someone that gets to be yours forever?”

“I didn’t say anything about forever. Wouldn’t want him to panic on me or something,” he grinned and kissed Sherlock on the nose, “Sleep on it and tell me who you think it is in the morning, love.”

John slid his body towards Sherlock’s warmth, letting an arm drape over his stomach, the other brushing against his own pajama-adorned legs. 

When morning arrived, it found Sherlock cross-legged and dressed with a cup of tea in one hand and a book in the other and John still fast asleep on his stomach. Sherlock prodded John, keeping the smile from his face as he called to his boyfriend, promising an enormous breakfast in bed and cases and no violin for a week until John blearily sat up with a pouty look in his groggy eyes.

“It’s too early, Sherlock, go back to bed or I’ll knock you out so you do,” he said and flopped backwards, pulling up the blankets.

“I’ve figured out who you think your soulmate is, John,” Sherlock grinned and prodded him again, “And I brought you tea if you wake up enough that I can trust you not to dump it all over your lap because it is still quite hot.”

“Mm?” John peeked out one eye, “What kind of tea is it?”

“Roobois, obviously. Are you awake yet?” 

“Give it to me,” he said, sitting up and sticking out a hand, “And stop talking, it’s too early to concentrate.”

“You don’t want to know who I think it is?” He raised an eyebrow expressively, “I think you’ll be proud of my deductions. You’re going to say ‘Wow, Sherlock, you’re brilliant, let me kiss you to tell you how brilliant you are!’”

“Oh am I? Who do you think it is?” John said as he took a sip of the warm tea, feeling the soothing flavor coat his throat.

Sherlock answered succinctly, “Anderson,” with a proud look on his face as John spit the tea across the bedspread in an arching spray.

“Sherlock, I swear to god—“

“Oh, John you ought to know not to swear by now,” he smirked and took the cup from John’s hand, giving him the damp dishtowel he’d brought along having planned carefully, “And also that I am rarely incorrect when it comes to matters of research.”

“Please tell me you don’t honestly think that I could possibly be soulmates with,” John scowled and didn’t even finish his sentence.

Grinning, Sherlock set the cup down and slid closer to John, putting his arms around the man’s waist, “I know exactly who your soulmate is and his hair is not in least bit greasy, nor is he shagging Sally Donovan.”

John smiled lightly and planted a chaste kiss on his lips, “Good.”

**Author's Note:**

> licea sambucina is a very rare type of mold.
> 
> Articles:  
> Wikipedia-http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Soulmate  
> Greek Myth-http://answers.yahoo.com/question/index?qid=20090310155134AANZ1e8  
> Chinese Myth-http://www.deerpathtrail.com/china/redthread.htm  
> Urban Dictionary-http://www.urbandictionary.com/define.php?term=soulmates


End file.
